Wednesday, 9 December 2015

London Walks Guide Becomes a Made Man

We interrupt our normal broadcast to bring you this special announcement.

David’s going to have a special day today that’s going to be
a whole lot better than Tommy DeVito’s [the Joe Pesci character’s] special day
in Goodfellas.

Tonight David’s going to be inducted into the Dickens
Pickwick Club. At its annual Christmas dinner held – where else – at the
ancient Dickensian George & Vulture Inn in the heart of the City of London.

It’ll be a feast of reason and a flow of soul.

And which Pickwickian will David be?

Allow me to introduce Count Smorltork. (Self-selected by
Count S [David] himself – and it is of course, for obvious reasons, the perfect
choice.) Said choice – David picked it out several weeks ago – being the
aperitif to the feast of reason.

But judge for yourself.

Here’s the Count’s show-stealing moment in ThePickwick
Papers.

'I want to introduce two very
clever people to each other,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 'Mr. Pickwick, I have great
pleasure in introducing you to Count Smorltork.' She added in a hurried whisper
to Mr. Pickwick — 'The famous foreigner — gathering
materials for his great work on England — hem! — Count
Smorltork, Mr. Pickwick.' Mr. Pickwick saluted the count with all the reverence
due to so great a man, and the count drew forth a set of tablets.

'What you say, Mrs. Hunt?' inquired the count, smiling
graciously on the gratified Mrs. Leo Hunter, 'Pig Vig or Big
Vig — what you call — lawyer — eh? I
see — that is it. Big Vig' — and the count was proceeding
to enter Mr. Pickwick in his tablets, as a gentleman of the long robe, who
derived his name from the profession to which he belonged, when Mrs. Leo Hunter
interposed.

'Ah!' said the count, drawing out the tablets again,
'ver good — fine words to begin a chapter. Chapter forty-seven.
Poltics. The word poltic surprises by himself — ' And down went Mr.
Pickwick's remark, in Count Smorltork's tablets, with such variations and
additions as the count's exuberant fancy suggested, or his imperfect knowledge
of the language occasioned.

'Count,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter. 'Mrs. Hunt,' replied the
count.

'This is Mr. Snodgrass, a friend of Mr. Pickwick's, and
a poet.'

'Stop,' exclaimed the count, bringing out the tablets
once more. 'Head, potry — chapter, literary friends — name,
Snowgrass; ver good. Introduced to Snowgrass — great poet, friend of
Peek Weeks — by Mrs. Hunt, which wrote other sweet
poem — what is that name? — Fog — Perspiring
Fog — ver good — ver good indeed.' And the count put up his
tablets, and with sundry bows and acknowledgments walked away, thoroughly
satisfied that he had made the most important and valuable additions to his
stock of information.

'Wonderful man, Count Smorltork,' said Mrs. Leo Hunter.

'Sound philosopher,' said Mr. Pott.

'Clear-headed, strong-minded person,' added Mr.
Snodgrass.

A chorus of bystanders took up the shout of Count
Smorltork's praise, shook their heads sagely, and unanimously cried, 'Very!'

As the enthusiasm in Count Smorltork's favour ran very
high, his praises might have been sung until the end of the festivities, if the
four something-ean singers had not ranged themselves in front of a small
apple-tree, to look picturesque, and commenced singing their national songs,
which appeared by no means difficult of execution, inasmuch as the grand secret
seemed to be, that three of the something-ean singers should grunt, while the
fourth howled. This interesting performance having concluded amidst the loud
plaudits of the whole company, a boy forthwith proceeded to entangle himself
with the rails of a chair, and to jump over it, and crawl under it, and fall
down with it, and do everything but sit upon it, and then to make a cravat of
his legs, and tie them round his neck, and then to illustrate the ease with
which a human being can be made to look like a magnified toad — all
which feats yielded high delight and satisfaction to the assembled spectators.
After which, the voice of Mrs. Pott was heard to chirp faintly forth, something
which courtesy interpreted into a song, which was all very classical, and
strictly in character, because Apollo was himself a composer, and composers can
very seldom sing their own music or anybody else's, either. This was succeeded
by Mrs. Leo Hunter's recitation of her far-famed 'Ode to an Expiring Frog,'
which was encored once, and would have been encored twice, if the major part of
the guests, who thought it was high time to get something to eat, had not said
that it was perfectly shameful to take advantage of Mrs. Hunter's good nature.
So although Mrs. Leo Hunter professed her perfect willingness to recite the ode
again, her kind and considerate friends wouldn't hear of it on any account; and
the refreshment room being thrown open, all the people who had ever been there
before, scrambled in with all possible despatch — Mrs. Leo Hunter's
usual course of proceedings being, to issue cards for a hundred, and breakfast
for fifty, or in other words to feed only the very particular lions, and let
the smaller animals take care of themselves…

Mrs. Leo Hunter looked round her
in triumph. Count Smorltork was busily engaged in taking notes of the contents
of the dishes…

Chapter
XV, The Pickwick Papers

Which – David promises – he’ll being
doing tonight to regale you with on the morrow. “Taking notes of the contents
of the dishes…”

Stay tuned.

David adds that tonight’s induction is
a well nigh perfect out-at-this-end bookend. Because, in 1974 – yes, 41 years
ago, the-far-end-bookend – he was the guest of honour and principal after
dinner speaker at that year’s annual Dickens Pickwick Club Christmas Dinner.
At, yes, the George & Vulture.

They’d tapped him on
the strength of his being a leading young Dickens scholar – he was doing his
Ph.D. on Dickens at University College London under the tutelage of the magisterial
Victorian specialist John Sutherland.

Four decades and change on it’s been
deemed that he’s earned his spurs. Not just Guest of Honour but the big one,
the full honour – full membership in the Dickens Pickwick Club.

A made man. Count Smorltork.

Eat your heart out ghost of Tommy
DeVito.

A
London Walk costs £10 – £8 concession. To join a London Walk, simply meet your
guide at the designated tube station at the appointed time. Details of all
London Walks can be found at www.walks.com.